I cover all things luxurious and eye-catching for ForbesLife, with a special interest in designs that are both practical and beautiful--though I wouldn't turn down an exceptional chocolate, nightlife or fragrance story. My background includes writing about interior design for Architizer and working in the editorial department at Good Housekeeping. And when I need a break from reality, I enjoy writing novels.

The Secret World Of SoHo's Street Vendors

This week, I spent a day wandering around SoHo with nothing but a pen, notepad, camera and mind full of questions for street vendors: Do they enjoy working outdoors? What if a vendor needs a lunch or bathroom break? What are their relationships with the law like? Passing by countless snack stands, I was determined to speak with artistic vendors, hoping to uncover details such as these.

Pepe was the first vendor I encountered. He and his wife, Eva, (who was home painting, so I didn’t get to meet her) emigrated from Amsterdam five years ago. They both make artwork using paint, steel, crystals, wood, stone and resin, and named their stand “Studio Marmalade,” to reflect their appreciation of mixing mediums. Every night they pack up all of the artwork into the stand, with its hidden trolley underneath, and wheel the load back to their apartment on the Lower East Side.

I asked Pepe if the challenges involved with vending – manual labor, limited space and advertising capabilities, weather issues — are worth it to him. His face went from bubbly to stern. “To be clear, I do this by choice.” He sells various pieces through galleries in Europe for extra money and exposure, but enjoys being on the sidewalks day after day. “I like being outside because it’s more lively. I love watching peoples’ faces as they walk by and seeing their reactions to our work. It’s the best feeling.”

During our discussion, Pepe excused himself to use the restroom. Two things struck me about this. Firstly, his mere gesture to the surrounding vendors before leaving his stand unattended without a worry was surprising. Being 5’1 and not particularly beefy, I was feeling pretty ill-equipped to defend his thousands-of-dollars-worth of artwork (his street pieces range from $35 – $5,000). I hoped he wouldn’t be gone for long, wherever he was going to go find a public restroom. But then a second point caught my attention, interrupting my worries: He casually walked right into the imposing high-end retail store that sits about ten feet away from his stand – apparently he was going to use their bathroom?

Indeed, he was. When Pepe returned, he explained that the ritzy store loves him. “I attract people here for my artwork, and I get more customers from their visitors. It’s a win-win situation.” The store’s employees will even welcome him inside for an air-conditioned break. According to Pepe, its management wants to keep the existing vendors around, aware that other businesses down the block have asked him to consider moving his stand closer to them.

Still curious about my first observation, I asked Pepe how he could desert his possessions, leaving them unattended when he walked away. He explained that when one person wants a drink or a bathroom break, the others will guard that person’s stand. “That’s one of the best parts about being so close [to the other vendors]. We all look out for one another.” I could feel the sense of comradery among the vendors — the laughing, joking and mingling. Pepe recommended I go check out his friend Paul’s (name has been changed) stand next, and I was enthused, having eyed Paul’s pieces while chatting with Pepe.

I walked a few feet and approached Paul, the man with neon genie pants. Like Pepe, Paul’s stand is a two-person affair. He runs it with a friend, who is a Vietnam War veteran. Because Paul’s goods – consisting of oversized gemstone rings and beaded necklaces – are legally categorized as “jewelry” and not “artwork,” Paul needs a Vending License. In New York City, unless you are lucky enough to be chosen from a lottery, only war veterans can obtain licenses. Therefore, non-veteran aspiring vendors often team up with veterans for their permits. Pepe needs no such license because his products are “artwork,” and are protected by the 1st Amendment Right to Freedom of Expression, whereas jewelry falls under “merchandise,” even if it is handmade and visually unique.

Feathers dangling from his long hair, Paul showed off some of his favorite pieces. I’m not sure how he managed to do it without three hands, but he modeled a few rings for me – a freshly-rolled cigarette in one hand, tea in the other. Paul, like other jewelry-makers, regards his work to be artistically valuable, although it is legally considered to be “merchandise” and not “art”. Having been arrested twice this past week, Paul is constantly on the watch for police officers. Because they ask to see permits on a daily basis, it’s important to have veterans around. He explains, “ Cops hide behind parked cars to see if the licensed veteran or the ‘other guy’ (real jewelry maker) is selling the goods.” If an officer sees a non-veteran making a sale, there’s a good chance an arrest is coming, on the grounds that the jewelry-maker is the real owner of the stand and is unlicensed.

NextNext, I spoke to another vendor on the block, Enrique, of Dirty Jewelry. Enrique makes one-of-a-kind jewelry pieces that range in price from $150 – $450, and sells about 6 items on the average day, mostly to tourists. Enrique is in the same situation as Paul – he has a licensed veteran (who wished to remain anonymous) there at all times to whip out a permit when officers come and ask to whom the stand belongs. Given the touchiness of these legal topics that could potentially destroy a vending business, I was very careful to make sure that the vendors were okay with the publicity. Enrique was bold, urging me to use his real name in the article and hold no information back. “Nothing I am doing is wrong. I pay taxes on my profits – plenty of taxes. I make beautiful jewelry and I work with a permitted veteran.”

Although the majority of the jewelry vendors I met expressed pride and integrity in their businesses, all except Pepe — the one who didn’t need a license to sell — insisted on speaking with me in privacy, away from the stand. If an officer were to see a reporter speaking with a jewelry maker, he or she may have reason to assume that the stand primarily belongs to the jewelry-maker, and not the permitted veteran. Still, most vendors were willing to share information with me, knowing that I was going to publish. In practice, many officers avoid making arrests on grounds concerning the relationship between a stand’s veteran and merchandise creator due to the lack of legal clarity in this area. Still, there are occasional crackdowns, warnings and arrests (like Paul’s) depending on the neighborhood and officers’ interpretations of the laws.

This cautious attitude that most vendors have reflects the grey areas in the vending world. The difference in legal requirements among vendors is one point of tension: Food vendors need two permits (Vending License and permit from the Dept. of Health), merchandise vendors one, and artists none. Obtaining a license poses another issue: They’re difficult – nearly impossible – to get as a non-veteran in New York City. Because females make up less than 10% of the veteran population, this statute inherently favors males. It also forces merchandisers who want to sell but aren’t veterans, and veterans, who hold the power to obtain a [free] license, to engage in dubious behaviors and alliances.

Post Your Comment

Post Your Reply

Forbes writers have the ability to call out member comments they find particularly interesting. Called-out comments are highlighted across the Forbes network. You'll be notified if your comment is called out.

Comments

It’s no secret that vendors make the best deals in Soho. After visitors to our fair city from all over the world have found they can’t afford any of Soho’s super-expensive shops ( prices inflated by the high rents as well as salaries of salespeople), they check out the vendors where they can find affordable, unique souvenirs or cool things to buy from emerging artists, designers, jewelers or five dollar umbrella salesmen. Vendors humanize the streets. Since the city has stopped giving out licenses to all but veterans, it becomes necessary for to hire a veteran to run the shop and greet the police checking licenses. One doesn’t need a license to sell on the net, so why on the streets of New York? Why this legal harassment and bullying of New York’s bravest, tiniest still independent merchants? Want to practice the ancient art of bargaining? Want to talk to a human being? Visit the vendors of Soho.

You make some strong arguments, Thelma. I like what you wrote about vendors “humanizing the streets”. I think the ones I met would agree with that. But I have to believe there are reasons why the city government try to control the amount of vendors in NYC (too many could overcrowd streets and hurt other businesses?). Also, without any license requirements, anyone could sell on the streets and a lot of fraud could occur. Still, I completely agree that there are obvious problems with existing vending laws — especially concerning vendors like the merchants and artists in my article.

“Hurt the other businesses?” What about the the other businesses hurting them? Why pick on the smallest of the small? “Too many could overcrowd streets.” Why not object to overcrowding on 34th Street from Macy’s during Christmas time? “Also, without any license requirements, anyone could sell on the streets and a lot of fraud could occur.” Anyone can sell on Ebay, Etsy, Facebook, etc. etc. without a license. Anyone can sell in a store, street fair or flea market without a license. Why do you assume that licenses control fraud or that people selling without paying a landlord have any less integrity than people who pay them huge sums? Fortunately, not everybody has fallen victim to the indoor peddler’s (store’s) brainwashing war against the outdoor peddlers, or there would be no Soho vendors.

What was not emphasized in the article is that these parasites are making a killing (Enriqure admits to making between at least $250,000 to $500,000 a year) and NOT a single one: collects sales tax to pay for our kids’ schools, our roads, our police and firemen, etc.; pays rent; offer refunds or issue receipts as is required by law; provide unemployment or workmen’s benefits; pay income tax to support our country’s and its citizens’ needs, etc, etc,

They clog our congested sidewalks; scam the system and then like, Thelma Blitz, try to justify their parasitic behavior.